A view of graffiti on a wall of a building in Kabul March 5, 2012. Picture taken March 5, 2012. PHOTO: REUTERS

Their wickedness, cruelty and horribleness lived. Either they killed the innocent or hunt the innocence. And if they didn’t, they made sure that we die of our miseries. Despite of their hatred, they sent us gifts; wrapped in bombs, weapons, hunger and lust. Survival was tough and the malevolence prevailed. The genocides were called justice and the assassins were heroes. The vulturous heroism; unkind and heartless.

The taboo was finally broken. Someone spoke against it. Someone among us revolted. People were scared to die all of a sudden, and forgot they died every day. So they themselves labeled the freedom cravers as rebels. They stabbed knife in their back and spit on their face. But few among us rose; in the time we were suppressed to death.

I wanted to join those who lived to die with honor. Those who kept on shoving every day. Bit by bit, little by little. Finally they were able to make the passage. I saw the light at the end of this dark tunnel. I was surprised but I was happy to see the first pebble drop out of the solid and firm rock. The first sign of triumph, our victory; our celebration.

The sufferings will not end all of a sudden. But we will celebrate each pain. We will entertain our insults to injury. We will laugh at our fears. Not only because we are insane but also because their atrocities will lead them to their eternal defeat.

We might have lost in the phase that did not count. But we will win when it matters the most. Our success is not desired, it is destined. But the bliss will not be manufactured. It will be earned. This success will be an overwhelming joy. This time, it would be ecstasy.